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The Season of Bathtime

Every season will end.

I repeated this like a mantra through the babes first year. The refusing to sleep, refusing to eat puréed anything, refusing to bathe. There were some nights bath time was simply done as fast as possible. I’d question if he’d ever happily take a bath. Always comparing my hard to the display of peaceful water time with mommy that filled my feed. Even a few months ago washing his hair was an exhaustive task filled with begging & yelling. My heart sunk to the bottom along with those toys. Questioning my mothering. Always second guessing.

But every season ends. Long ago are the days to my heart breaking in the water. There’s no more tears, no more crying. Tonight we set a timer for our water baby. His toes so pruney from an evening imagination play. Instead of “no bath” we only hear “no out”. I forget sometimes how far fetched this moment seemed. How distant, how unreachable, how far away.

How good are we as mothers to push through. To keep trying. To never giving up. Even when we feel as the failure of all failures we push on for the sake of our babes. And one day it clicks…and we stand tall realizing not one ounce of our efforts failed to bring this moment.

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